


It Means Something

by theLazarus



Category: Greta Van Fleet (Band)
Genre: First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Intimacy, M/M, Oral Sex, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Sex, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Swallowing, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23346925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLazarus/pseuds/theLazarus
Summary: I had a fantasy of Sam helping Danny out--you know...platonically--during a time of need. I hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Sam Kiszka & Danny Wagner, Sam Kiszka/Danny Wagner
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	It Means Something

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @Luluthechoosingcrow for your comments around the halfway point. It's always a delight reading them!! ~~

Sam thought it was funny when Danny tried to hide things from him. He was just bad at it, but it wasn’t for lack of trying–Sam was just that much better at reading him, at picking up on Danny’s tells. Like, Danny wasn’t one to vocalize disdain most of the time–always so polite and considerate–but sometimes, if they got swept up in a boring conversation that turned mildly aggravating, peppered with slight jabs at their music or their taste in clothing or just shit neither one cared about, Danny would turn his cheek just a bit and twist his lips, completing it with an eye roll that was almost undetectable. It was a habit Sam had noticed early on and the habit had remained. He had to give Danny credit, considering Sam knew he himself was often too quick to actually make a smart-ass remark in response, voice already raised a bit as blood rushed to his cheeks.

It’s not that he had a fiery temper really, he just didn’t want to keep his mouth shut when other people were being dumbasses. It was compulsory. But, Sam had come to learn on this particular leg of their tour, he was a lot better with remaining composed in one specific way.

Danny had been rolling his eyes more often, his silence broken by quiet little scoffs. He was even more reserved and quiet than usual, not withdrawn but pulled back, like he was tethering himself to the walls instead of moving into action with the rest of them. He was cranky, Sam noted, and even being offered the most delectable meals and newly-legal drinks couldn’t satiate him. Sam’s patience with trying to console without actually talking about the issue was wearing thin. 

When, after a nice night out with just the four of them, Danny disappeared, that patience was completely gone. There was only one place Danny could have gone.

Sam stepped up into the tour bus, the space seeming much larger than it had earlier in the day with everyone gone. Josh and Jake were still out drinking and trying to doge too much attention; Sam wasn’t married to the idea of continuing to do that with them, but he certainly didn’t want to be on an empty, dark tour bus while the rest of the world waited for them outside.

“Danny!” Sam called out, louder than necessary. It wasn’t like the bus was that big, but he was long over Danny’s moodiness and grumblings. He didn’t wait for a response, he just paraded himself down to the beds, the corner of Danny’s knee hanging over the edge.

“Hm?” Danny replied, looking up from his phone, apparently deciding to try and cover up his crankiness once again. 

Sam stopped himself from rolling his own eyes. He shoved Danny’s knee with his hand. “Get off Instagram and come out with me.”

Danny groaned. “I’m tired, Sam.”

“You’re not tired,” Sam said, shoving Danny’s knee aside and sitting down on the mattress. He reached out and snatched his phone away from him, locking it and putting it in his own pocket. “Come on. Let’s go.”

Danny glared at Sam as best he could. To Sam, even Danny’s most scathing looks were almost laughable, they were so adorable. But he was trying. 

“You’ve been such a bitch lately,” Sam went on, placing his hand on Danny’s knee, a tender gesture to hopefully combat his ineloquent choice of words. “You’re not tired. You need to get laid.”

Danny’s brow furrowed first, like he was confused, then his eyes got big and he snorted. “No.”

“Yes, you do, Daniel. Face it, none of us can hide that much from each other while we’re on this thing,” Sam replied, gesturing to the bus with a wave of his hand. “I know you have gotten laid zero times while on this bus. Unless you got something backstage, but I’m pretty sure you haven’t.”

Danny sat up, at least as best he could in the small space. “Alright, fine. Yeah, I’m–I’m a little sexually frustrated.”

“So jerk off,” Sam said, finding Danny’s stubbornness and possible obliviousness more comical than irritating at that point. “You’re in here alone and you’re not jerking off. Dude, you didn’t even bring a girl back here.”

“It’s not that easy,” Danny said quietly.

Sam knotted his brow and tilted his head. _That_ level of obliviousness actually ticked Sam off a little. “It is that easy.”

“Not for me,” Danny replied, an air of true defiance suddenly about him. Sam was surprised he didn’t cross his arms over his chest and huff for good measure.

“I don’t buy it,” Sam retorted plainly, taking some of Danny’s defiance for his own. “You could easily get a blowjob backstage. You could have gotten one tonight. You could have fucked _onstage_ if you’d really wanted to.”

“Jesus, Sam,” Danny said, his voice returning to its quiet, gentle nature, and turned his cheek.

Sam sighed. “Come on.”

Danny was silent for a moment, his face still turned away, before he looked at Sam again and said, “I don’t want it that way.”

“How do you want it? You want a roadie girlfriend?”

Danny laughed a little. “Sex is better when it means something.”

“It would mean something to them, I promise,” Sam said, patting Danny’s knee. “Well, if you’re not going to come out, then I’m going to leave and you’re gonna jerk off. Seriously. I’m not gonna deal with Mr. Moody anymore.”

“I’ve–I’ve been doing that,” Danny protested, looking at Sam with eyes that Sam wasn’t sure to read as inviting or simply despairing in his apparent celibacy. “It’s not the same. Like, it’s boring when I do it. Also, I hate doing it in here. I feel like everyone can hear.”

Sam chuckled a little. He had heard it before–the suctioned, wet sounds and low, stifled moans from beyond the curtain. He’d ignored it for the most part, but he also had found it sort of enticing whenever he caught on, like he was getting some sneak peek–or listen–into such an intimate moment. Maybe it really was weird, but the thought of Danny attempting to carefully and discreetly jerk himself off sort of turned Sam on–he could imagine him lying back, one arm angled behind his head as he stroked himself, that hand moving to his mouth so he could bite down on something as he came. 

Came in what? Sam thought suddenly, and then all his rationalizations seemed to pale in comparison to the admittedly weird desire he suddenly had. He’d thought too much even in the few seconds–he’d already pictured it in detail. It was going to happen. 

Well, if Danny wanted it to happen.

Sam slid his hand a few inches higher, ever so slightly on Danny’s thigh. “No one’s here now to hear it. And no one’s coming back for a while.” He looked down at his hand, waiting for Danny to flinch or jerk away, but it didn’t happen. He looked up again and was met with another look he couldn’t decipher–he actually found it a little frustrating. He always figured Danny out. But with his hand on Danny’s thigh and his heart racing furiously out of both fear and excitement, Sam wasn’t sure what his best friend’s reaction was going to be.

Fuck it, Sam concluded. He slid his hand up higher, gently stroking Danny’s denim-clad leg. “I could do it for you,” he offered, bringing his eyes back down. He was nervous. So nervous. Danny never made him nervous. But Sam wanted to do this and if Danny rejected him, he wasn’t sure how he–how either of them–would be able to go on. Offering to jerk your friend off wasn’t something he felt anyone could easily laugh off. 

“Sam,” was all Danny said, like he was shocked, but he didn’t move away or grab Sam’s hand. When Sam looked up, Danny’s lips were parted slightly and his face had relaxed, but the skin of his cheeks and nose were painted rosy.

“What?” Sam replied with a smirk, partially fabricated, partially a natural reaction. With Danny going along thus far, he was getting his confidence back with each millimeter movement of his hand, eventually landing right on Danny’s bulge. His own lips parted when his palm smoothed over it, the fly of Danny’s jeans scratching along his skin, the undeniable weight of a stiffening cock hidden beneath. “You’re already getting hard.”

Danny shifted on his ass a little then, shaking the mattress and jostling Sam, but he actually slumped down a bit instead of moving further away. “Are you joking?”

“I’m touching your dick,” Sam replied, smiling to himself. He was. He was running his palm over the bulge again, dragging it back up so his fingers could slip just past the hem of Danny’s shirt for a second. “It’s a serious offer.” He left the bulge to slide his fingers past the hem of Danny’s t-shirt, spreading his palms over his abdomen, stroking smooth, warm skin with his fingertips. 

He’d always admired Danny for his composure and his calm, for his gentleness despite his appearance. Sam could objectively see how some people might be intimidated by Danny’s tall, strong and dark stature, but he thought it was really because people didn’t pay attention to the details. It was like they looked over Danny’s soft and inviting smile, his quietness and the affection that, Sam thought, so clearly melted out of him. 

And those eyes. Those clear, soft golden-brown eyes that flashed green in sunlight, those eyes that regarded Sam carefully as he smoothed his hands back down Danny’s abdomen again, his thumbs brushing over the lush happy trail beneath his navel. 

Sam kept his eyes on Danny’s as he popped open the fly of his jeans and unzipped. He felt his hands tremble and he hoped it wasn’t obvious–Danny actually sounded a very quiet “mmf” noise and Sam pulled back a grin of triumph. 

He ran his fingers over Danny’s cock beneath the cotton boxers. He was so thick. Sam had had passing thoughts about Danny’s dick in the past and had caught glimpses of previous sheathed bulges, but actually coming into contact with it affirmed his fleeting suspicions. It unnerved and excited him at once, and he had to remind himself that he’d done it a million times before on himself. 

Still, he wasn’t sure if his personal technique would have the same effect on Danny, but what else was he supposed to do? He pet Danny’s cock over the boxers, lightly running his fingers down its length and even to his balls–so full, so firm yet so delicate. He glanced up to Danny for a warning but he only looked at Sam with his eyes even softer than before, his mouth relaxed, though Sam could see his chest rising and falling slowly, deeply. 

Sam stroked Danny’s balls with the pad of his thumb; Danny made another little sound, higher in his throat, and squirmed. 

“How do you do it?” Sam asked, genuinely curious but also suddenly less sure of his personal technique in that moment, despite Danny’s audible confirmations that whatever he was doing was working to some extent.

“I’m not gonna tell you,” Danny replied, and that newfound self-assurance sent Sam into a tailspin for a second. Danny’s eyes were on Sam’s hand as he said it, but when he spoke again, he looked up through his lashes, face dark and shadowed and eyes taunting. “You offered, so it’s all up to you, Sam.”

Well fuck, that was the invitation Sam had been waiting for. He swallowed, bringing his eyes back down to Danny’s crotch, and tentatively began petting him again. Danny lifted his hips up a bit and spread his legs more–another invitation. Sam moved between them, the two of them actually aligned then, and slowly pulled his boxers down.

Sam felt his eyes widen as he took the sight of Danny in. Seriously, so big and thick, all tan and smooth apart from the few prominent veins that ran up his length to the pink, smooth head. He pulled the boxers down further, letting Danny’s balls meet the air, and had to sit back on his heels a bit as he tried to comprehend the sight. 

Danny shuffled a bit again and Sam looked up to see him blushing hard. He fought off more anxious thoughts and wrapped his hand around him loosely, the warmth of Danny’s skin almost totally overwhelming even just against his palm.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Sam said, leaning forward and placing his other hand on Danny’s thigh. “This is impressive.”

“I know, but–” Danny said, still blushing as he stopped himself mid-sentence.

Sam laughed a little. “Of course you know.” He started to stroke, gently and carefully. He sometimes got a little rough with himself, so quick and hard and determined to make himself cum as hard as he could. Touching someone else’s–Danny’s–dick made him feel like he had to be careful. It really was a delicate appendage in a lot of ways, and Danny in particular was a delicate being.

He rubbed Danny’s thigh over his jeans as he worked his other hand more confidently around his shaft. He was getting used to the feeling and he was little by little familiarizing himself with his most intimate area–how bold and warm those veins were under his palm, how sturdy and weighty his actual shaft was, how intricate the little ridge of skin just beneath the head was, and how subtly Danny’s hips twitched when Sam just happened to brush his thumb over it. 

With that subtle movement, Sam felt more brazen. Brazen enough to move his hand from Danny’s thigh to cradle his balls. Another impressive feature of Danny–he manscaped. Sam hadn’t given that much thought before, but he knew Danny would have a lot of hair down there, so feeling his balls relatively smooth and seeing the frame of pubic hair around his cock trimmed was an interesting insight and, the more Sam studied what he was working with, he felt himself getting more and more turned on, his own dick starting to stiffen in his pants.

He was tempted for a moment to jerk his own pants down and pull himself out, but he reminded himself that this was about Danny and Danny’s needs. It wasn’t as though Sam was plowing his way through each new city, but apparently he really was better at keeping himself entertained and satiated. Danny’s struggle made the situation hotter, in a way, like he needed that release and he needed it at the hand of someone else, literally. And Sam also knew it wouldn’t have been just anyone–like Danny had said, sex was better for him when it meant something.

Sam lifted his hand up to his mouth and spat in it–ineloquent and maybe gross, but that’s what he always did if he didn’t have lube, and he didn’t feel like interrupting the moment to ask for that. Neither did Danny, apparently, who sank lower against the mattress and started to idly ran his hand over his abdomen, incidentally lifting his shirt up a little bit. Sam’s eyes glossed over that strip of tan skin and stripe of black hair again as he wrapped his hand back around Danny’s cock, the addition of spit not an amazing one but it helped, and Danny even moaned low and quiet in response.

He was actually into it! Sam grasped a little more firmly, stroking slowly, and cupped Danny’s balls again. That was the one thing Sam felt most unsure about–he didn’t do much with his own when he was alone, but he did like when someone else toyed with them. Gently, of course, as he’d learned quickly that one wrong move, one overly enthusiastic tug or accidental nip of teeth and he would be aching and not in a good way. He made a mental note to not do that to Danny, and instead stroked two fingertips down them, right over the seam, and then cradled them once more with his thumb brushing over them. 

Danny moaned again, not from low in his throat but from high in his chest, almost like a breathless whine. That sound drew Sam’s attention back to his face–he was flushed but clearly at ease, his lips parted slightly and brow relaxed above those eyes that weren’t even looking at the movement of Sam’s hand around himself, but at Sam. Their eyes connected and Sam felt swept up into them for a moment, he almost forgot he was actually still stroking Danny and toying with him, lost in the intensity and the tenderness of his gaze.

It was tender, Sam couldn’t deny that. As another fleeting thought, he wondered if he could have done this sooner and gotten the same response. He still didn’t think Danny was into him like that, not seriously anyway, but he clearly didn’t just want just anyone to get him off. Sam sat up straighter at that revelation, feeling a sense of pride run up his spine, and he smiled a little to himself.

Danny whined again and brought the hand that wasn’t resting on his abdomen to his chest; Sam stroked a little harder, assuming he was still into it, but asked just in case: “Is that okay?”

Danny nodded, his breathing visibly intensified. “Maybe a little more lube.”

“Lube or spit?” Sam asked, still not wanting to disrupt the moment.

“Spit’s fine,” Danny replied. He let his head fall back, looking up. “You’re good at this.”

Sam felt that pride spiral up around his spine again, sending a tingle to his brain and making his own dick twitch beneath his pants again. He didn’t think Danny could tell, but Sam was nearly completely hard and he hadn’t even been touched.

He went to lift his hand again to get more “lube” but another thought fluttered quickly through his mind and, without entertaining it further, he bent down, jaw already widening, and glanced back up to Danny for reassurance. Danny, probably at the lapse in Sam’s movements, brought his head back down and met Sam’s eyes, shock making Sam think he might need to backtrack, and he felt frantic then, wondering how he’d be able to backpedal from almost blowing him.

But Danny quickly relaxed again, even stretching his legs a little and then lifting his hips just enough to give Sam a definite go-ahead, so Sam swallowed his own thumping heart before lowering himself and wrapping his lips around the head of Danny’s cock. It was weird–it was the same thing that he’d been stroking and running his fingers over, playing with and learning about, but the feeling of it on his tongue and in his mouth was so different from everything else. He had nothing to compare it to. 

Another moan from Danny shifted Sam’s focus once again–it wasn’t about him. Yet, Sam realized as he lifted his mouth off and slid the tip of his tongue around Danny’s cock, holding his shaft in his hand, it sort of was, in a way. He knew Danny wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t also know in some way that Sam was also enjoying it, and Sam was, even if he wasn’t literally getting off. He liked holding Danny in his hand like that, he liked feeling the weight of his cock against his palm, he liked tonguing the head of his cock and dragging it down the shaft just an inch, teasing that little ridge until Danny squirmed and bucked his hips, letting his head fall back again as Sam took him completely in his mouth again and sank down just enough, but not enough to make himself gag.

Suddenly Sam felt Danny’s hand on his head and he braced himself, tensing his thighs in preparation of being coerced down even more, but Danny just laced his fingers through Sam’s hair, fingertips gracing lightly over his scalp. Sam would have sighed relief if he could have, but he still had Danny’s cock in his mouth, so he sank down lower on his knees, arching his back a little and adjusting himself just right to do what he knew what Danny wanted anyway. 

Comfortable enough, Sam worked Danny’s cock in his hand and went with what his body told him to do–he let his jaw relax, mentally willed his throat to relax with it, and opened his mouth wider. Danny was still running his fingers through his hair and, when Sam looked up, he could see his chest and abdomen rising and falling deeply, those wide, taut muscles moving right along with his moans, deeper then but just as quiet. Sam wondered if that would change when he actually came.

The head of Danny’s cock slid deeper back against Sam’s tongue, the entirety of it filling his mouth so much his jaw was already sore and aching, but when Danny’s free hand shot down to caress his cheek, Sam knew it was only a matter of time before he actually did cum. His hips were bucking unsteadily and he had spread one leg out more than the other, and Sam saw him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before another gasp moved past his lips. When he let his head drop forward again, he met Sam’s eyes once more.

“Sam,” Danny said, another breathless gasp, both hands suddenly still on Sam’s head and his cheek. “I’m close.”

Sam just nodded, only averting his eyes because he was finding it a challenge to keep them on Danny’s, the look of intense need driving from those hazel eyes too much for Sam to take in while he was also still taking a dick in his mouth. He kept twisting Danny in his hand and he could feel something familiar then–a rush of blood, an extra dose of heat flooding beneath his palm–so he moved his other hand to his balls again, curious if they were matching up. 

They were. They were almost shockingly full and warm, very clearly ready to go, and Sam caressed them as Danny resumed caressing his cheek, equally warm fingers gently gliding over his cheekbone and to his ear. The fingers in his hair resumed too, stroking his scalp and mussing with his hair, and Sam sucked Danny harder, cheeks hollowed and lips taut.

He barely got a warning. Danny’s hips bucked but he didn’t curse, didn’t utter Sam’s name–or anyone else’s–through gritted teeth, didn’t push Sam’s head down even more. Danny just let out another quiet, low moan that was broken with a breathy gasp, concluded by a slightly higher-pitched whine punctuated with a stifled grunt. Sam almost pulled back by instinct at the eruption of warm, viscous fluid that shot out onto his tongue and back into his throat, but he held himself there, still gently stroking Danny’s shaft, and let his tongue glide over him as he eventually lifted himself up and off. He swallowed, mentally taking note that Danny would owe him big time after that, and sat back on his heels again, taking in the panting, spread out and utterly beautiful mess in front of him. 

That was the thing–Danny really did look beautiful like that. His limbs were loose and sprawled out, his hands fallen slack against his abdomen again, and his chest was rising and falling deeply, nipples hard underneath his t-shirt. He had sank himself down lower on the bed in the whole process, something Sam hadn’t even noticed, and was almost flat against the bed, his chin pointed upward again and all those long, thick black curls strewn around his face and against the pillows. He looked other-worldly, like a god, so much so that Sam found himself intimidated by Danny for the first time in his life, until he looked up and smiled a little, the bashfulness washing over his cheeks again, the cheeky grin drenched with gratitude.

He sat up and gently pulled Sam into him and, before Sam could think anything of it at all, Danny’s lips were planted on his own in a soft kiss that Sam actually, finally, sighed into. He felt his hands moving of their own accord, lifting themselves up and preparing to clasp Danny’s face, but he didn’t know what that kiss really was. He knew it felt good, it felt right, and why wouldn’t it have? They completed each other in so many ways, the kiss felt like it just almost literally sealed them together entirely. 

But even then, the kiss was the most confusing part of it all, though Sam felt like he melted right into it, like he could melt right into Danny’s arms and just be held for a while.

“Thank you,” Danny said, pulling back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Sam managed a scoff. “But I did.” He looked down, adding, “You didn’t have to kiss me if you, you know, if you think it’s–”

Danny laughed a little. “I always kiss after. It’s like, I don’t know, an extra ‘thank you.’”

Sam gently shoved Danny’s chest. “Mr. Manners.”

“I thought I was Mr. Moody?” Danny replied quickly, tucking himself back into his pants, the sound of the zipper almost echoing with the rest of the bus still silent.

“You better not be anymore,” Sam replied. He looked down again–his own hard-on was still pressing against his pants, but more than anything, he felt exhausted. Blowjobs were, apparently, very much a job, and Danny wasn’t an easy man to take down like that. 

As if reading his mind, Danny hooked his arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulled him in closer, nestling back against the wall. Sam sighed again and leaned into Danny’s chest, curling his legs up as he rested against the familiar, hard and warm body, and wrapped his arm over Danny’s abdomen, his cheek laid against his chest. 

Sam closed his eyes, letting Danny’s comfort take him away. He was so exhausted–after the show, after all of that–that he was ready to fall asleep right there in Danny’s arms.

“Sam?” Danny said softly, stirring Sam out of his impending dreams for another moment.

Sam opened his eyes as he felt Danny’s fingers return to play with his hair. “Yeah?”

Danny stroked stray hairs back from Sam’s temple, brushing over the shell of his ear. “That meant something.”

Sam felt his heart stop, then it returned with an intense thud that radiated into his throat. But he felt Danny’s fingers brush over his scalp again, felt the steady heartbeat of his best friend beneath his cheek, and he closed his eyes again. “Good.”


End file.
